Legolas was pretending to be his father. He had realized that if everyone thought Thranduil was him, then everyone would think he was Thranduil. He was going to take advantage of this fact. He was going to act evil and deranged. He hauled himself out of bed, practicing his evil and deranged laugh with grim determination.

"Har har har." He tried again. His evil and deranged laugh sounded like a shredder getting jammed on block of cement. Or like a elephant getting rubbed with sandpaper. Pathetic. He should be capable of sounding eviler than that. "Har har. . .ouch."

Legolas picked himself off the floor. He had forgotten about his broken leg. He was now painfully reminded of it. He staggered to the door of the infirmary and opened it. He peered down the hallway. An Elf was meandering down it. Great! This was perfect opportunity to practice being Evil Thranduil.

.

Rumil was still attempting to get over his horrible shock. He had been attacked! By clowns! Rumil had a fear of clowns. He had developed it in the past thirty minutes. Now he took several deep breaths and continued down the hallway.

And then an Elf stepped out of the door. He was limping. He was chuckling gruffly under his breath.

"Prince Legolas?" asked Haldir.

The Elf stopped limping and chuckling and merely looked startled and dismayed. "How did you know?"

"I've been watching you for the past year," said Rumil, his tone telling the prince that he considered the year a waste of time. "Not to mention that I saw you fall out of a tree. You broke your leg."

Legolas winced. "I certainly did."

"What were you doing?"

"I was pretending to be my evi- my father," said Legolas. "He's pretending to be me, you see."

Rumil nodded as if it made sense. "That's nice."

Legolas limped down the hallway and found his bedroom door. He flung it open and stepped inside. His eyes widened. He looked horrified.

Legolas was hyperventilating. Rumil peeked inside and frowned. There was paint everywhere. Most of it was green. "Who did this?" he asked. Perhaps they could get revenge. . .

"Celeborn's Club," snarled Legolas.

.

"Never have I been so humiliated!" cried Erestor. He had been ranting for a while. He was furious. No matter how hard he rubbed, his paint would not come off. He was going to be silver and black for a long, long time. "Never have I been so mortified! I demand recompense!"

"Be quiet," snapped Celeborn, leveling the advisor with a very angry glare. He was scrubbing frantically at his face. The paint was not coming off him, either.

"I can't believe this!" wailed Lindir. "It's meant to come off!"

"Everyone's going to know that we were the– the clowns," choked out Elrohir.

Glorfindel was gazing unhappily at his reflection. "I don't think we'll ever live this down."

There were lacy curtains in the window and flowers painted on the walls. The bedspread was a mass of frills.

"This must be Mariel's room," said Celeborn. "It seems a lot like her."

"Maybe we could find something here," suggested Thranduil, rooting through a drawer. He produced a bottle and waved it delightedly. "This might work!"

"What is it?" asked Lindir.

"Nail Polish Remover," said Thranduil. "Wait a moment. It's got a warning label on the back."

Celeborn's Club read the label silently.

CAUTION: KEEP OUT OF REACH OF GLORFINDELS.

"That's odd," said Glorfindel.

.

"Behold the new, paint-free Elrohir!" cried Elrohir, prancing cheerfully around the room. "Not a spot of it anywhere!"

Erestor had only managed to clean his face. He scowled at the younger Elf, who was completely devoid of paint. Lindir and Elladan had also been lucky in getting to use the remover first. Thranduil and Celeborn were fighting over the bottle.

"I should get it! It's my club!" yelled Celeborn.

"Well, it hasn't been a very good club!" yelled Thranduil. "Anyway, I found the stuff!"

"Here, give it to me," said Glorfindel. He grabbed the bottle. It slipped from his grasp and flew across the room.

"Oh, Valar," said Thranduil, heading for the door as quickly as possible.

"What?" asked Celeborn, deciding to go with him.

The bottle of nail polish remover landed in the fireplace. Unfortunately, there was a fire inside it. Nail Polish Remover is very, very flammable.

.

Celeborn was drinking coffee the next morning in a bright, sunny room. There were flowers in little pots beside him. There were clean white curtains hanging in the windows. There were kind Elven women in uniforms to make sure he was comfortable. The infirmary wing was not a terribly bad place to be in, even if you were suffering for second-degree burns in various unpleasant places.

"Here's your newspaper," said one of the nurses kindly. "Would you like more coffee?"

Celeborn said yes, and the nurse poured him some more. He unfolded the newspaper.

Suddenly Lindir dashed into the room. He was in a wheelchair, and a lot of nurses were chasing after him. He was waving a newspaper. "Look, Lord Celeborn! Look! We're in the newspaper!"

.

"I'm sorry you're hurt," said Legolas. He handed his father a balloon that said 'Get well soon' in bright, happy letters.

"Here's your spider plush toy," said Thranduil, passing it to his son. "It's a birthday present from Faramir."

Legolas beamed with delight. "Aww. Isn't it cute?"

Thranduil shuddered. "Very."

"You wanted to be in the papers, didn't you?" asked Legolas.

Thranduil became worried. "Y-e-s," he said slowly.

.

"I can't believe it," said Erestor, staring wide-eyed at the newspaper. "Not after all this. Why me? What did I do? Was it calling Glorfindel an agrestic anathematic megalomaniac? I take it back! He's really quite a nice guy!. . .I can't believe it. Why me? Why? Why? Why?"

Glorfindel frowned. "You're overreacting. Nothing is ever as bad as you make it out to be." He trundled his hospital bed a bit closer to Erestor's. "Let me see."

Erestor pointed. Glorfindel stared.

"Oh. . .Valar. . ."

.

Elladan and Elrohir weren't sure if they wanted to laugh or cry. They decided to laugh. "It's brilliant! I wouldn't have thought of this in a million years!" said Elladan, chuckling to himself.

"Legolas is a genius!" said Elrohir. "Here, let me see the paper again."

Elladan passed the newspaper back to his twin. "As soon as I get out of this hospital bed, I'm going to. . .well, I'll think of something. He deserves a prize!"

.

"I can't believe my club came to this," said Celeborn. He stared blankly at the paper. Lindir decided to comfort him.

"Well, we're in the newspapers," he said. "Fame at last, and all that."

"We're in the comic section!" cried Celeborn. "We're cartoons!"

"People like to laugh," said Lindir. "It's pretty entertaining when you think about it."

Celeborn thought about it. He thought about the hot air balloon blowing up. He thought about Legolas falling out of the tree. He thought about the paint fight in Imladris. He thought about punching Thranduil in the face. He thought about trying to get Thranduil to marry Mariel. He thought about scaring all the reporters in the café. He thought about Thranduil's expression when Faramir had given him a plush toy for his birthday.

He began to laugh.

"He's gone mad," sighed Glorfindel.

"Cracked completely," agreed Elrohir.

"I always knew he was mentally unstable," said Erestor.

"He used to looked slightly deranged at times," said Thranduil.

"But now he's too far gone," said Elladan.

"He'll never be the same again," said Lindir.

Celeborn's Club had gathered around the door of Celeborn's room. They were all staring at him sadly.